Subway Surfers World Tour: North Pole
by SomeSurfer
Summary: A holiday update on Lucy's life, following the events of World Tour: France. Criticism welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Ooga-chaka ooga-chaka. Groan.

Ooga-chaka ooga-chaka. Sigh. Not now, the full cast of Guardians of the Galaxy, I'm trying to sleep.

Ooga-chaka ooga-chaka. Jesus. Don't you know I have things to do tomorrow? Yes, Chris Pratt's abs, I have to take my super hot girlfriend up to our cabin to meet my parents. Yeah, I work tomorrow too.

I work tomorrow.

I shot out of bed, nearly smashing my Blue Suede alarm clock as I turned it off. I ran to my closet, pulled on my shirt, and then fell flat on my face as I tried to put both of my legs into my pants at the same time. As I was trying to regain both my footing and my dignity, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"It's your mother. I hope you're ready for tonight. Your brother flew in special from New York just to meet her. We're all so excited!"

"Awesome, Mom, that's great. I would love to talk to you, but I'm late for work-"

"Oh my goodness, that's right! Well, don't let me keep you! Talk to you soon, I love you!"

"Yep, I love you too. Bye."

As I hung up the phone, I realized my shirt was definitely on backwards. I flipped it around and ran out of the bedroom into the kitchen. The only things in the fridge were a banana and some Chinese food, which I decided made for a good enough breakfast. Besides, Christmas was in two days, I could eat well at the cabin. As I was finishing the last wonton, I remembered something.

Tasha. Shit. Where was she? We were leaving today, and she had taken off of work specifically for me. Was she hiding?

"Tasha?" No answer. I walked back into the bedroom, to check her side of the bed. She had stayed up late last night, and so I never actually saw her go to bed. In fact, it looked as if her side hadn't been slept in at all. As I checked under the covers, I found a note written on an orange Post-It.

 _Lucy,_

 _I'm sorry, I don't want to do it this way, but_

 _I think this is the only way I can be happy._

 _I can't do this anymore, and I didn't know how_

 _to tell you. I hope you can still find happiness._

 _I love you,_

 _Tasha_

I sat down. I read it over again. I read it again and again, until I had every word memorized and I could read it in my head. I couldn't see the words anymore, I couldn't see anything anymore, because there was a river of tears flowing from my eyes. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. All I could do was sit and cry.

I started to remember. I went back to the day we met, in the hair parlor. I knew from the moment she squeaked out her name that I would fall in love with this girl, and that I would do anything to make her mine. That's why I showed her the subway, and opened my heart to her and let her crawl inside. And in time, she did the same for me. I knew her deepest secrets, her deepest desires. I knew that I was the first girl she'd ever been with, and I hoped I would be the only one.

She was a first for me, too. The first person I ever slept with. The first one I ever lived with. She was supposed to be the first one to meet my parents. And now, she was the first person to ever break my heart, thoroughly and completely. But I couldn't hate her. What she did was terrible, of course, and it hurt like nothing ever had. But it was those three words at the end of the note that changed everything. She was the first one I said them to, and now, they stared back at me, tearing me apart each time I read them. She still loves me. She still loves me. Tasha still loves me.

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Ancient cultures across the world believed that water was capable of cleansing the soul and freeing the mind. Bathing was an important ritual experience that was often considered godly. But they all died. I like showering because the water is hot.

After cleansing my soul or whatever, I put my hair up in a towel and walked into the kitchen. I checked the clock on my way, and I was over an hour late for work. My phone was buzzing on the counter, as the messages rolled in from my manager, mother, father, brother, and probably whatever ancestral spirit was responsible for this massively shitty day. I threw it out the window.

That was a bad decision. I definitely needed that. I also needed Tasha. I needed her arms, her touch, her voice, to let me know it was okay. That things will work out. That she'll come back.

I sat down. I took a breath. I let it out. I took another one. I let it go. I gripped the counter. I let it go. I walked to the window, calmly slid it open, calmly stood on the ledge. I felt the wind on my face. I gripped the window frame with all my strength.

I stepped back into the room. Not today. There was work to be done. Not at the cafe, of course. I would probably never be able to go there again. My thoughts turned to the night ahead. There was a cabin full of my family two hours north of the city, waiting to meet the girl I was going to marry. Man, the past tense hurts right now. I needed a solution, and rather quickly. But more immediately, I needed pants.

I returned to the bedroom, taking care not to look at the bed where Tasha's note was still sitting. I rifled through my dresser until I found a particularly cute pair of tights and a denim skirt. If I couldn't be happy today, I could at least look nice. As I was slipping the tights on, there was a knock at the door. I hobbled through the kitchen and peered through the peephole. It was Tasha.

At least, that was my first thought. To my credit, the peephole was dirty and I was emotionally compromised. I suppose I should have paid more attention to the postal uniform, but Tasha was into role play, so that didn't actually seem strange. God, she was so hot in costume. Which is not to say anything against the mail woman standing on the other side of the door. From what I could tell, she was perfectly good looking in her own right. If the circumstances were different, I'd ask her to come in and stay for awhile. Then I looked down at my half-clothed legs, and made my second bad decision of the day.

I swung the door wide open and tore my tights off in one dramatic flourish. The postal woman was about to knock again, but her hand stopped in mid-air as she took in my body, clothed only in pink underwear. I watched her eyes widen, and her jaw drop. That's when I made my move.

I lunged straight for her torso, in a move I had learned from playing years of Madden NFL Football on the Playstation. I surprised her, for sure, but she was stronger than I had expected. She grunted, and tried to pry me off. She looked like she was about to scream. I slid down her body and grabbed both her legs, then threw all my weight towards the floor. I successfully tipped both of us over, and I heard a crack as her head hit the floor. She stopped moving immediately.

I grabbed her by the ankles and slowly, carefully dragged her back into the apartment. I bound her hands and feet together with my tights. I tried to lift her into the bed, but I couldn't quite get her there, so I just left her on the bathroom rug instead. Then I set about making a traditional English breakfast.


End file.
